


Where I Belong

by Three_Oaks



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Benji being badass, Benji saves the day, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, Love Confessions, M/M, team feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Three_Oaks/pseuds/Three_Oaks
Summary: Sometimes, Benji wonder if he belongs to the team. But they're there for him
Relationships: Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	Where I Belong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snovyda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snovyda/gifts).



> Happy New Year!!! Wishing you all the best for the next one, and more

"How is it going, Benji?" Ethan asked, his voice marred by static over the comm. 

"Give me a minute!"

Benji crouched closer to the screen from his cramped closet, hoping it would bring him some clarity. The encryption system was a three level code, with a random key generated each time it was accessed, which meant cracking it directly would take him longer the universe had existed for. His brow was frowned, hard. This was why he had lines on his face, wasn't it? All the stress, and the IMF. He should get some Botox, and charge them for it. Why was he tasting blood? Dammit, he must have been biting his tongue again. He should stop doing that, as he'd been telling himself for twelve missions running.

Focus.

This was a puzzle, and he was good at them. 

Deep breath.

And then, he pattern made sense. The pieces fit together. He typed, as fast as he could, but still too slow to follow his mind. He pressed enter to compile his code, holding a feverish breath. The code ran. No error.

He'd done it. He wanted to laugh, or shout. 

"Ethan? It's a go. Security disabled," he said. 

Had his voice been shaking? He wanted to close his eyes, press his hands against his throbbing temples and forget he was sitting on an overturned bucket below a damp staircase, holding the success of the mission in his hands. Or its failure.

No answer.

That was fine. Ethan was busy exfiltrating Garcia, he didn't have to bother with pleasantries. If he'd been in danger, he would have let Benji know, he told himself before his heart started running too fast. 

And Benji had just done his job. Nothing more. He'd been doing his job, like he'd done every previous mission, like they all did. He wasn't even in danger. Ethan was, like always, breaking into the actual prison, dealing with the guards god knows what what expecting him there. Ilsa was, surrounded by members of the junta she had to convince to give her the plans. Luther was, waiting for Ethan to return, the first one to be caught if he didn't.

He was just a technician. How many more had Ethan known, and forgotten? Would anything change, if they swapped him for one of his many colleagues? Would they even notice? 

He wasn't in danger. He was no one. Just little old Benji.

He'd done his job. That was all that was required for him.

Why was he feeling so bitter, then?

***

He'd cut his finger. It was a stupid cut, a ragged metal edge on a ladder he'd been climbing too fast, rust carving itself into his skin, metal creaking, making his heart skip a beat. Climbing, climbing to the roof, computer on his back, heavy battery pack turning the back pack's straps marks into bruises. 

There was blood on the computer keys, smeared, as he frantically typed. It hurt.

"We don't have any more time!" Luther shouted into his earpiece.

Ethan, trapped between two warring groups and the embassy, waiting on Benji to decrypt the password. 

"I'm trying!"

He was. He could do it. He could do it. He had to do it.

He wasn't good with computers, not as good as Luther was. It was supposed to be Luther, here, but he'd broken his hand at the dropoff. Ethan trusted Luther. Benji was making a mockery of it.

He shouldn't even be in the team.

He stopped typing and rubbed his cut with the nail of his thumb. 

"Benji? You there?"

"Yes! Yes."

"Tell me what's going on."

Luther's voice was surprisingly calm, given Ethan was at risk of getting shot any minute.

"It's... I've never seen something like that. It's an old system, I don't even know how it's still working, I thought they'd all been retired in the seventies."

"Alright. What do you see?"

Benji talked him through, his voice at the edge of panic. Luther must have noticed. Step by step, he explained to Benji how to hack into the system. His hands were shaking as he typed. He was glad Luther couldn't see him, at least.

"I'm in!" Ethan shouted. 

Benji let himself fall backwards, until he was lying on the damp concrete of the roof. Luther had done it. Ethan was safe. 

"Benji?"

"Yeah?" he said, wiping his eyes.

"You did good."

No, I didn't, he wanted to answer. Alone, he'd never have been able to open this door. Would Ethan have found a different way? Luther had known. That's why Ethan trusted him. It was selfish, selfish to be jealous of the years they'd shared, the innate confidence they had in each other, strong like blood that had been shed. He was the new guy, still, the outsider. He couldn't compete. He'd proven why.

"Get back to the safehouse, alright? I have a broken hand, but I can still cook. Don't let yourself freeze on that windy roof."

"I won't," he promised.

He closed his eyes. Just a few more minutes before facing Luther and Ethan. Their disappointment.

***

One wire, two wires, three wires, all disappearing in the squiggly mass plugged into the plastic. Benji half expected them to come alive, wiggling like worms. Very, very explosive worms. 

Hands steady, breathing still. Benji snipped one of the many wires. The countdown stopped. The bomb didn't explode, scattering him into a thousand bloody bits across the scorched room. How long would it hurt? He'd always wondered. 

"Bomb's disarmed," he said, his voice sounding odd, foreign, as it came out of his mouth. Maybe he'd cut off the wrong wire, the bomb had indeed gone off, and he was dead. He thumbed at the scar on his thumb, trying to spark some pain, some feeling. He would have noticed dying, wouldn't he? The flash of heat, the sound shattering his eardrums, the shrapnel burrowing into his flesh. How would he feel? He could try. He could fix that wire, and he'd know, once and for all. No, he didn't want to. He didn't want to die. Did he? It would be easy to fix that wire.

"Great! Everything alright?" Ethan's voice said. He blinked, dug his nail in thumb.

"Yes," he answered. 

Ethan was there. His voice was warm, familiar like a favorite song. Reaching to him. Ethan was there, and he was alive.

"See you at the safehouse soon, then. Don't worry, I didn't let Luther cook this time."

"Bless the gods," he said, with a small smile he couldn't stop.

The next steps were easy. Go back to the safehouse, find Ethan, Luther, Ilsa. Eat with them. That's what Ethan had said, and that's what he was going to do. Clear. Reassuring.

He packed up, left a beacon for cleanup to come and dispose of the bomb, and drove back to the strangely suburban house they'd been quartered at for the past week.

Ethan came out of the kitchen as soon as Benji was past the door, taking the heavy bag of equipment from him. He must have been waiting for him, listening for the sound of the lock, Benji realized. 

"You're back," Ethan said.

"Apparently so, yes," he answered, more bitingly than he meant to.

"Yes. Sorry, kind of obvious."

Ethan shrunk a bit, and Benji felt like a fool. Always the wrong thing.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that."

"It's alright, you've had a long day," Ethan said, patting him on the shoulder. "I was just glad to see you, that's all."

"Sorry," he repeated.

"It's alright, really. Want some chili? I had to threaten them a bit, but Ilsa and Luther left you some."

"Sure."

Benji followed Ethan in the kitchen. Luther and Ilsa were sitting before empty plates, chatting over a glass of wine.

"Benji!" Luther said, getting up to give him one of those half hug, half backpat. "How was it?"

"Fine. Nothing special. Can I help you, Ethan?"

"Just sit down, I'll get you a plate."

Benji tried to reach for the cutlery, before Ethan stopped him again.

"I'll do it, Benji, it's alright."

Feeling slightly useless, he settled next to Ilsa, who turned to him with a sympathetic air.

"Wine or water?"

"Water, please."

She poured him a glass, just as Ethan set a plate of fuming hot chili in front of him. It smelled delicious, of coriander and beef stewed for hours, and Benji realized how hungry he was. He started eating quickly, waiting for the discussion he'd interrupted to resume.

"You look like death warmed over, Benji," Ilsa said.

"Thank you, darling."

"When's the last time you had a break? I'll... convince HQ to give you one if you want," she said innocently.

He groaned.

"I don't even want to know what you mean with that!"

"You don't need to know."

The image of Ilsa, with a gun to Patricia from HR's head made him smile.

Ethan sat across him, next to Luther.

"How was the bomb?" he asked.

"Standard. Nothing special."

"You always say that, but the tech department had no idea what the last three were, either."

"It's nothing, really." He fidgeted on his seat, uncomfortable.

"It's not! You're great at this," Ethan smiled. 

"Yeah," Luther added. "Remember Bogota?"

Before he could find an appropriate answer, Ethan cut in again.

"There's no one I'd trust more, Benji. And you did an incredible job again today."

God, Ethan. There wasn't a hint of falsehood, of flattery in his voice. He hadn't let him down, not this time. Pride swelled in his belly, the warmth of Ethan's smile chasing the last dredges of the dread from earlier. He was happy, right then. Among friends. He smiled.

"I couldn't let you down."

"You never have," Ethan smiled back. "And you won't."

His hand was resting a few inches away from his wineglass, half open, his elegant fingers intermittently tapping on the wooden table. Benji wanted to reach out, and take it into his own, feel the heat of his skin, the calluses of his palm, stroke that soft bit of skin above the thumb. Bring it to his lips, and kiss it. He didn't deserve Ethan, but if he could show him how much he loved him, maybe it would be enough. 

"More wine, Ethan?" Ilsa asked.

"Yes, thank you," he answered, smiling warmly at her.

They were beautiful. Ilsa, graceful and dangerous like a panther. Ethan, strong, solid, but still delicate like a man much younger than he was. Both of them brave, scarred by years of trauma and yet kind, good in a way Benji had never encountered before. A perfect couple.

How selfish was he? And just how stupid?

"I'm going to go sleep, my head is killing me," he said, getting up. No need to break their nice evening with his gloom.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's nothing."

Ethan frowned, but didn't insist.

"Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," he answered, before leaving the kitchen. He went to his room and laid down, not bothering turning on the light, praying he wouldn't dream.

***

Oh, god. Plan A had failed. So had plan B, as well as the one that him and Ethan had put together at the last minute, while driving at a hundred miles an hour in the middle of New York City traffic. It had been three hours, countless ideas that had been failed before they could even try, and now Ethan, Ilsa and Luther were like sitting ducks, waiting to get shot down. 

Panic rushed like poison through his veins, exhilarating and corrosive at the same time. Murray was going to be there in half an hour with fifty men, and Benji was an hour away across the city. They had to take the missiles crate before Murray could get to it, but their first van had exploded, the second was at the bottom of the river, and not even Ethan could lift a half a tun.

"We can take them," Ethan said, obviously lying.

"Of course you can't!" he shouted back, pressing harder on the accelerator.

"It's alright. Don't worry about us."

"What else do you want me to do?" he answered, his voice making it plain just how scared he was. They were going to die, and he was useless, again.

"It's not your fault," Ethan said, softly. It felt like a goodbye, and Benji hated it.

No. He couldn't let them die. They were his friends. Ethan was... whatever he was. The resolution was burned in his frontal lobe, giving him the sense of calm you'd have before the wave crashes. He wasn't going to let them die. 

He knew what he was going to do. It was crazy, but who even cared at this point? He turned his car too fast, nearly crashing it into a parked van, making the tyres screech and the motor roar. He drove even faster, zigzagging between cars and passerbies, wincing at every close call. He didn't know how Ethan could cope with high speed pursuit, it was awful. 

But he was doing it. 

He crashed the car through the barrier of the company, noth bothering to look back at the screaming security guard before running out, gun in his hand.

Cars were too slow. But a helicopter would'nt be. 

Shit. There was already a pair of tourists in the helicopter that was on the helipad. 

"Excuse me, I'm sorry, I need you to get out of there," he said, aiming for authoritative, but not too scary. He didn't want to traumatize them

They shrieked and scrambled to get out.

"You too, please," he said to the pilot. "Don't worry, not going to do anything bad, I just have friends who need an urgent lift."

As soon as the pilot was out, Benji clambered in. He knew he could do this. His license wasn't exactly over, but he'd gotten most important points. At least he hoped.

He took off, the rotors roaring, and begged whoever may be listening not to be too late.

"Ethan? Hang on. I'm coming, I promise," he shouted into the comm, not even sure he could hear him. 

He flew above the city, the cars looking like toys and humans like ants. He laughed out loud. It was beautiful, it was too much. It was insane, very certainly. But his friends were in danger, and Benji wouldn't let them die.

It took him less than 10 minutes before he reached the dockyard were his team was. He set the helicopter down, and Ethan ran to him as soon as he could do without being blown off his feet.

"Benji!" he shouted. "How..."

"I hijacked an helicopter. Let's talk about it later. There's a rope, do you think we can tie it to the crate?"

"Sure thing," Luther said, setting to work with Ilsa and Ethan. Not even five minutes later, they were flying again, with the missiles, towards a safe landing place. 

He'd done it. He'd saved them.

No one spoke much during the flight, but once they'd left the helicopter, Luther clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hijacked an helicopter? Welcome to the team," he said approvingly.

"Are you jaleous, Ethan?" Ilsa asked.

"Not one bit," Ethan smiled. "Do you want to go back to my place? There's not much more there than some dusty rice, but we could order pizza. Relax for a bit, let cleanup do their job and hope HQ forgets us."

"If there's beer, I'm in," Ilsa says.

"I can do beer. Luther?"

"Course. Will be nice doing something together without worrying about any of you doing crazy shit."

"Hey, the crazy shit saved your arse!" Benji objected, making everyone laugh.

"And you, Benji?"

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to go with them, spend a nice evening with friends, drink beer, eat pizza, joke and forget they could have all died. But he couldn't. 

"Sure," he said. "I have to drop by my place first, is that alright?"

"Of course. We'll wait for you," Ethan said.

"You really don't have to."

He waved goodbye to them, and drove one of the IMF's car home. He didn't have any right to go with them. They were happy, and he was feeling mopey. He knew those evenings, knew he wouldn't be fun to be around for anyone. He didn't have the energy to lie to them, have to justify himself. He'd find an excuse later. He was better off alone, he thought, as he stepped inside his cold, dark flat.

He hadn't stepped foot in it for sixth month. It was half empty, most of his stuff still in boxes he hadn't bothered unpacking. Unfinished, impersonal, empty. Perfect for him, he said, hating himself for indulging in self pity.

It had been an hour. He should text Ethan that he had a headache, or that he was just too tired to get out again. He'd been sitting on the sofa since he'd come back, the TV turned on so he wouldn't have to face the silence.

Would they even have noticed he was gone? 

A knock on his door.

He got up, and opened.

It was Ethan.

"Um, sorry if I'm disturbing you. You weren't answering your phone, and I got a bit worried."

"Sorry," he said. Dammit, he'd managed to bother Ethan again. What was wrong with him?

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes. Just tired. Sorry."

"Do you still want to come over? It's fine if you don't, of course."

Benji looked at his feet. He was exhausted, all of a sudden. 

"I don't want to bother."

Something flashed across Ethan's face, something he couldn't read. Like pain, or anger. He shrunk, waiting for the inevitable reproach.

"Benji," Ethan said, very gently. "You're never a bother."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"It's alright. I promise," he said, and squeezed Benji's hand.

"No, it's not." God, he was going to cry. "It's not. I'm sorry I'm not a good friend. I keep worrying you, and making a mess of everything."

He looked at the floor, hoping the hall was dark enough that Ethan wouldn't see his tears. Pitiful.

"You're a wonderful friend, and you haven't made a mess of anything."

His tone was warm, but firm. 

"That's not true," Benji said. "I keep letting you down." 

Ethan, very carefully, laid a hand on his jaw and tilted his face, making him look into his eyes. 

"Benji. You have never, ever let me down."

"You have Luther. And Ilsa. You don't need me."

"Of course I need you. You're you, and you're wonderful. You are the kindest, cleverest person I know, and I'm so proud to be your friend."

He didn't know if he fell into Ethan's arms, or if Ethan pulled him close, but there he was, his arms wrapped around him and his face buried in his soft hair, the smell of sweat and shampoo flooding his nostrils, grounding him. His shirt was soft, and he could feel his warmth through the fabric. He never wanted to let him go.

This wasn't alright. Ethan was his friend, he was comforting him, he had no idea how selfish Benji was. How much he wanted this never to end.

He pushed Ethan off, and stumbled backward until he found the wall, and slid down against it.

"Benji? Benji, what's wrong?" Ethan said, his voice filled with worry.

Benji took his head into his hands.

"I don't deserve you," he said.

"Of course you do. What do you mean?"

"You're kind, and you trust me, but you really shouldn't. I don't deserve it," he repeated.

"Why do you think that?" Ethan asked. His voice was soft, and Benji hated it. He should be angry.

"I'm going to mess up. I'm going to mess up, and you're going to die, or get hurt. I'm not good, or clever, or anything."

"You never have, so far. You are clever, and resourceful, and I trust you so much." He took a breath. "What you did before... You saved us. You've saved us so many times. Saved me." He paused. "And if anything ever happens... It won't be your fault. It's the job. I know the risks, remember?" Ethan smiled a bit, looking at him.

He wanted Ethan gone. He couldn't deal with his kindness, his patience, because eventually he would realize that Benji wasn't worth it. Better now than later, then. He couldn't bear the wait anymore.

"I'm not a good friend because I'm in love with you," he blurted out.

Ethan gasped quietly. Benji waited for him to get up, and leave.

Instead, he came to sit next to Benji, but not too close, his back resting against the wall. Again, Benji couldn't read his expression, and it scared him.

"Benji," he said, before stopping. He'd always loved the sound of his name on Ethan's lips. "You are a good friend. You're the best of friends anyone could hope for, I so many ways." He paused again. When he started speaking again, his voice was hesitant. "But to me... you're more than that. I love you, Benji," he said with a strangled laugh. "I've love you for so long, and I've been so scared. All those times, on missions, or here, you were so amazing, and funny, and kind and handsome, and I wanted to tell you so much. But I didn't want to hurt you, or to lose you, and..."

"You were worried about losing me?" 

"Yes. Because I'm the luckiest man alive to have you in my life."

Benji wanted not to believe him. There was a beast, screaming at the back of his mind, telling him that he was lying, that it was a huge joke. But if there was one thing Benji believed with every strand of his soul, it was that Ethan Hunt was not a cruel man.

Ethan loved him.

"I don't... I don't know what to do, Ethan. I never thought..."

"It's alright," Ethan said, taking his hand into his own. "Is this ok?" 

Benji nodded.

"We have all the time in the world. I can't wait to figure it out together," he smiled reassuringly. "What we could do, is go back to my flat. Just have a quiet evening with Luther and Ilsa."

"And then?"

"Anything you want. Anything for you."

"Even if I cry into your shirt and put snot all over it again?"

"Anything. I'm here for you, Benji. No matter what."

"Alright, then," he said tentatively. 

Ethan helped him up, and they walked to his car, still hand in hand. It was warm. Tethering him down, making him feel like he was invincible, because who would have thought? Ethan hadn't run away. He loved him. 

He laughed, with pure joy. The same he saw written all over Ethan's face.

When they got there, Luther and Ilsa were sitting on the sofa, beer in hand, making fun of a James Bond on TV. 

"Sorry to interrupt," Benji said.

"Benji!" Luther said, with a warm smile. "Glad to see you, man."

"Hope you didn't wait on me."

"The evening can't start without our favorite helicopter thief," Ilsa joked, before hugging him tightly.

As soon as she'd pulled away, Ethan threw a cushion at her, which she avoided with ease.

Benji sat down next to Ethan, watching them quibble. Luther was rolling his eyes, in that unmistakably Luther way, and soon they were all laughing, eating and drinking like they hadn't a care in the world. He was with his friends, right where he should be.

He looked at Ethan.

"Can I?"

Ethan smiled widely, and nodded. He looked so happy.

Benji took his hand.

He felt like he belonged.


End file.
